pleased with her husband's correspondence, when he was away from home,
Mrs. Blyth opened the letter as soon as it was taken up to her. Madonna
was in the room at the time, with her bonnet and shawl on, just ready
to go out for her usual daily walk, with Patty the housemaid for a
companion, in Valentine's absence.

"Oh, that wretched, wretched Zack!" exclaimed Mrs. Blyth, looking
seriously distressed and alarmed, the moment her eyes fell on the first
lines of the letter. "He must be ill indeed," she added, looking closely
at the handwriting; "for he has evidently not written this himself."

Madonna could not hear these words, but she could see the expression
which accompanied their utterance, and could indicate by a sign her
anxiety to know what had happened. Mrs. Blyth ran her eye quickly over
the letter, and ascertaining that there was nothing in it which Madonna
might not be allowed to read, beckoned to the girl to look over her
shoulder, as the easiest and shortest way of explaining what was the
matter.

"How distressed Valentine will be to hear of this!" thought Mrs. Blyth,
summoning Patty up-stairs by a pull at her bell-rope, while Madonna was
eagerly reading the letter. The housemaid appeared immediately, and
was charged by her mistress to go to Kirk Street at once; and after
inquiring of the landlady about Zack's health, to get a written list of
any comforts he might want, and bring it back as soon as possible. "And
mind you leave a message," pursued Mrs. Blyth, in conclusion, "to say
that he need not trouble himself about money matters, for your master
will come back from the country, either to-morrow or next day."

Here her attention was suddenly arrested by Madonna, who was eagerly and
even impatiently signing on her fingers: "What are you saying to Patty?
Oh! do let me know what you are saying to Patty?"

Mrs. Blyth repeated, by means of the deaf-and-dumb alphabet,
the instructions which she had just given to the servant; and
added--observing the paleness and agitation of Madonna's face--"Let us
not frighten ourselves unnecessarily, my dear, about Zack; he may turn
out to be much better than we think him from reading his letter."

"May I go with Patty?" rejoined Madonna, her eyes sparkling with
anxiety, her fingers trembling as they rapidly formed these words. "Let
me take my walk with Patty, just as if nothing had happened. Let me go!
pray, let me go!"

"She can't be of any use, poor child," thought